


i don't feel so alone.

by katarama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Asexual Character, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance Relationship, Online Dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Scott kiss under the stars, Stiles and Scott start dating, and Stiles meets Allison on chatroulette.</p>
<p>(spoiler: he's pretty into her)</p>
<p>Scileson told in three parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. let's make this last forever.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> For the [Polyamorous Wolf Exchange](polyamorouswolfexchange.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thank you for my wonderful beta [Ells](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rjosettes/pseuds/rjosettes) for their encouragement and invaluable advice on striking the right balance of asshole with Stiles. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mix available [HERE](http://8tracks.com/katarama/let-s-make-this-last-forever).

Stiles shifts carefully on the hood of his car, wincing at the creaking noise it makes. The jeep is too old and the hood is too beaten up to comfortably support both his and Scott’s weight, but they’ve been doing this for so many years that he can’t imagine not doing things this way, driving out to the preserve late at night when the moon and stars are bright and squeezing in next to each other on the hood.

The songs haven’t changed much, either, since the time back in Stiles’ sophomore year, when he proudly announced to Scott that he had his license and the keys, officially, and that they were sneaking out with them.

(they both knew that Stiles’ dad had a late shift and wouldn’t notice Stiles being gone, so it wasn’t really sneaking, but there were some things that didn’t need to be spoken out loud. lingering, worried glances gave way to nudging shoulders and fingers tangled together and music sung just a little too loud and out of key to soothe the hurt and loneliness)

Their taste in music never overlapped very much; Stiles always liked music that was loud and abrasive and overstimulating, and Scott was just as happy to turn on a top 40 station and hum along absently.

Fall Out Boy, though, was a revelation, Stiles talking Scott’s mom into driving them to Best Buy immediately after the first time they heard heard Sugar, We’re Going Down and met eyes and _knew_.

They’d found the soundtrack for their teenage years.

Now, they’re 19-year-old college students home for the weekend who can’t let old habits die.

The air in the preserve has always felt cooler to Stiles than the rest of Beacon Hills, especially at night. Everything is still oppressively hot, sweat making his plaid overshirt stick to his skin, but there always seems to be a bit of a breeze rustling through the trees. He isn’t sure if he only notices it in the preserve because it’s the only place he actually sits still, or if there’s some unexplainable magic there that makes the trees whisper secrets at night.

They can’t see as many of the stars as they used to be able to. Every time Stiles comes here during the summer he feels like the trees are marking his absence by stretching their leaves slightly higher towards the sun. He has clear memories of when some were saplings, when he was a boy, clumsily stumbling over his feet to try to keep up with his healthy mother, her high, clear laughter filling the air. The trees are bigger and taller, now; not tall like the ancient oaks, but still enough to block out pinpricks of light in the sky.

The preserve has been his place for as long as he can remember. The only person he’s ever chosen to share it with is sitting next to him, legs spread as widely as he can get away with on the too-small car hood, absently singing out of key to the scratched CD playing from the Jeep.

It makes Stiles’ heart swell more than it should to hear Scott’s tuneless rendition of their favorite misheard lyrics. Most of what Scott does makes Stiles’ heart swell more than it should, but there’s something about being in the preserve at night that makes everything feel fuller.

“You sound like you’re thinking too much,” Scott says when the song ends. “There something you wanna talk about?”

Stiles almost waves him off and says it’s nothing, drops a joke about how he’s never had trouble talking. But Scott’s staring at him, face concerned and painfully earnest, and Stiles decides he deserves a more honest answer than that.

“Just thinking about us,” he says.

“Good thoughts?”

Stiles doesn’t know how he can have bad thoughts about them. Scott has been everything for him for a long time, his best friend and his brother, the only person he could always count on to be there whenever he needed him. Scott knows Stiles better than anyone, because he’s been there for every awkward, painful crisis of Stiles’ childhood and young adult life.

“Yeah,” Stiles tells him. “Just thinking about how great you are. Important to each other, and all.”

Scott nudges Stiles with his shoulder, but his grin is so warm and bright Stiles could probably see his dimples from the moon. “The most important.”

It would be so easy for Stiles to let it slip by, just one moment in a million in which the words were on the tip of his tongue and he bit them back.

“I love you,” Stiles blurts instead. He can already feel the anxiety build up. They’ve said it before, casual ‘love you, bros’ accompanying high fives and ‘I love you’s pressed into each other’s shoulders when everything was too much to take on alone.

This is different. This is an unbidden declaration of feelings, coming from a deeper place than just affection or gratitude.

“I love you, too,” Scott says simply, and Stiles can already feel the frustration starting to build up inside.

“No, I mean, like-”

“I know what you mean,” Scott says, reaching out and grabbing Stiles’ hand. “Not just friendship love, or family love.”

“Pretty sure you’re still confused,” Stiles says quickly, “or you would probably be a lot less chill about this? Because I mean like, boyfriend love? And we’ve been friends for a very long time, and I’ve been in love with you for a very long time, but you’re not freaking out about this at all?”

“Nope,” Scott says, grin growing.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, and Scott _laughs_. Stiles wants to hit him, a little bit, because this is _way bigger fucking news_ than Scott is making it seem, but he also wants to kiss Scott’s annoying, pretty face.

Scott beats him to it, pressing gently with his fingers to smooth out the frustrated wrinkles on Stiles’ forehead before sliding his hand down to cup Stiles’ cheek. He leans in slowly, giving Stiles time to back out. Stiles has never been good at waiting, though, and he’s already waited too damn long for this to do anything but shove his face forward, accidentally smushing noses with Scott and reducing them both to giggles before he gets his first, real kiss.

 

* * *

 

It takes ages for Stiles to get used to the idea of actually being Scott’s boyfriend.

He’s been aggressively single for so long that the idea of even having a boyfriend blows his mind. But he sees Scott now and can give him a hello kiss if he wants to, and he can hold Scott’s hand even when he doesn’t need comfort, just because Scott has small, smooth hands and Stiles wants to hold them.

Stiles lays awake the night he and Scott first kiss, running it over in his head, mumbling to himself, “I boyfriend love you,” embarrassed and relieved and happy.

He does dip for a long time into thinking about how terrifying it is, though. Scott was calm about it, but Stiles can’t help but consider the fact that things could go south so easily; they could not fit together quite right with the added pressure of _dating_ , or Stiles could be the single worst boyfriend on the planet and Scott could get sick of him. Changing their relationship dynamic could complicate something that has always been easy and good for Stiles.

It could bring an end date. They could break up, and Stiles could lose the best friend he’s ever had.

But most of the time, that fades to the background, and Stiles isn’t actively thinking about himself as being in a relationship.

It doesn’t really start to sink in until Scott invites him on an actual date.

Not that he tells Stiles it is one, initially. He tries to be smooth about it, asking Stiles on the phone if he wants to grab something to eat. Stiles suggests Scott should come over so they can stay in and get takeout, like they normally would.

Scott has to tell him, “Stiles, I’m trying to ask you out,” before Stiles realizes what’s going on.

“Oh,” he says, glad he’s on the phone so Scott can’t see his cheeks pink up. “I should go shower, then, text me when you’re coming over.”

“I’ll be over in about an hour. You don’t have to get dressed up, we’ll go casual.”

“Perfect, that’s all I have in my closet here, anyway,” Stiles says. “See you then.”

 

* * *

 

The date is to the diner they always eat at, and both of them get their regular, which they share, just like they always do. Stiles thinks it should feel just like normal, just grabbing burgers and curly fries and talking with his best friend.

Stiles is a little nervous, though, and it makes him motormouth, which Scott, of course, _knows_ means Stiles is nervous. He reaches across the table to grab one of Stiles’ hands, narrowly avoiding knocking down Stiles’ soda, but the tummy flutters Stiles gets, along with the fact that he’s trying to eat his burger with one hand, leave him dripping ketchup all over his jeans.

“We’re a disaster,” Stiles says, refusing to let go of Scott’s hand even as he dabs haphazardly at his pants with his napkin.

“We’re awesome,” Scott says.

Stiles finds that he doesn’t disagree.

 

* * *

 

Scott and Stiles go back to their shitty apartment and their shitty summer jobs. It’s only the summer after their freshman year, so neither of them has fancy internships, though Scott volunteers on the weekends at the animal clinic, and Deaton’s told him that next summer, if he’s still interested, they could hire him on. For now, they have jobs that, put together, make just enough to get the rent paid, keep something in their refrigerator, and get drunk every once in a while.

Their hours are long and changeable. Stiles always gets stuck with early morning shifts, which means dragging himself out of bed and drinking probably illegal amounts of coffee in order to be functioning, while Scott typically works afternoons and ends up staying late because his boss is an asshole. They always try to set aside one night every week, though, for date night, even if it’s just walking down the street to the burrito place at midnight or pulling up Netflix and making popcorn.

Stiles is happy.

He still gets nervous, sometimes. He can see himself spending the rest of his life with Scott, easily; but then again, he always could. It may have been easier, even, to picture that when they were just friends, because he could never imagine a future where he loses contact with Scott.

But there are parts of being with Scott that Stiles has always known would take some serious, thoughtful consideration. Stiles has known Scott is asexual since Scott started to figure it out himself, back around the time that Stiles discovered porn online. Even though he’s perfectly happy going without it for Scott, if Scott isn’t into it, Stiles also has spent large chunks of his life fixated on the idea of having sex with someone else, and it _is_ something he wants.

Eventually, it’s something he’s going to have to talk to Scott about. He thinks Scott falls more along the lines of indifferent than sex-repulsed, but Stiles doesn’t know for certain, and he doesn’t want to make Scott feel guilty or uncomfortable, especially this early on in their relationship. Not when Stiles loves what they do have, everything feeling nice and close and intimate even without any dicks involved.

He pushes it off to deal with later.

 

* * *

 

Stiles gets bored when Scott isn’t around.

He has other friends, sure. But it’s summer, and a lot of his friends are home with their families instead of hanging out around college doing not much, and Stiles isn’t _that_ social. He’s always preferred spending his time with Scott, when it comes down to it.

Nights are when he’s at his antsiest, too. After a long day at work, he’s irritable and understimulated, but too exhausted to actually do anything to make it better. He talks with his dad, sometimes, just to catch up and see how he’s doing. He and his dad have never been the chattiest with each other, though. There’s only so much they have to talk about.

So he goes online.

One night in early June, even just clicking around online isn’t enough, though. There are some days when he’s in the mood to hunker down and delve deep into something, to find everything he can about a subject, but this is not one of those times. He tries reading through article after article, hoping something will catch, but he’s just not really feeling it. Nothing is holding his attention, and he just ends up staring off into space, his mind wandering.

He needs to be around people, but he’s totally unwilling to leave his apartment, so he pulls up chatroulette.

The first few conversations are a wash. One of the guys hangs up the second he sees Stiles is a dude, and the next person starts rambling about football, which Stiles didn’t even know he could expect from someone on the internet.

When the next video chat starts up, though, Stiles knows it’s going to be a good one right off the bat.

“Just do it, that was the dare!” a voice in the background says, and there are loud, high-pitched giggles. There’s a brunette in front of the camera who looks conflicted; she’s biting her lip and looking out of the frame, toying with an empty shot glass. There’s a half-full bottle of vodka on the floor next to her.

“You did say the next cute one,” she says, glancing at Stiles. Stiles is hooked. A gorgeous girl calling him cute is enough to catch Stiles’ attention, mostly because it happens basically never. She sets the shot glass down and waves a goofy, finger-fluttering wave at him. “Hi there.”

Stiles can’t even respond before she’s reaching down and lifting her shirt off, a fluid, seamless motion that reveals a smooth stomach and a hot pink bra. Her face is flushed as she sets the shirt down on the ground next to her, and the others in the room get loud, giggling and tittering.

“Um…” Stiles says, trying very determinedly to look at her face and not her boobs (they’re on the smaller side, he can tell, it isn’t his fault that the color of the bra drew his attention right away). “Hi?”

She grins sheepishly, but she seems surprisingly comfortable just being in her bra. “Sorry, we’re playing truth or dare, and I picked dare when Malia was giving them out. Hers always get you to take your clothes off.”

“It sounds like you’re having fun,” Stiles says. Brown eyes, dimples. Dark brown hair. She’s very, very pretty, and Stiles is successfully convincing himself that he has plenty to look at that is not her cleavage.

“He’s trying so hard, look at him,” a vaguely nasally voice says. “He’s probably never seen boobs before.”

“Be nice,” the brunette says, looking Stiles over. “He’s trying to be sweet, aren’t you?”

Stiles’ tongue feels heavy in his head, so he nods, and there’s more tittering. The girl looks at him consideringly for a moment and then picks up the vodka. “You all refill, I’m gonna borrow the computer for a minute,” she says, holding the vodka out until a hand grabs it away. They all laugh, and Stiles thinks he hears someone make a joke about going shirtless into the bedroom with a boy, but he’s a lot more focused on the fact that when she picks up the computer to carry it, the camera’s aimed straight at her breasts.

_Jesus_.

Stiles feels like he should probably warn her, and he tentatively clears his throat, but there’s not much time until they’re in a bedroom, the computer on the bed and the girl leaning back against the wall.

“Sorry about that,” she says. “I love them, but they’re a bit much sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Stiles says. “They seem like they know how to have a good time.”

“They’re very drunk,” she says, grinning. “Except Kira, who has to get up early for a gymnastics meet tomorrow and went to bed hours ago.”

She looks at Stiles and notices the way he’s still carefully avoiding ogling her. She blushes. “Whoops. I can grab a shirt?”

“That might be nice,” Stiles says. “Not that I don’t want to stare, because everything I can see is really nice, like, ten out of ten kind of nice. But I also don’t want to be rude and creepy and sit here staring at you, because-”

The girl laughs. “I don’t mind you staring,” she says lightly.

“I have a boyfriend,” Stiles blurts as she reaches onto the floor for a shirt. She stills for one, long moment, and he almost feels disappointed. He doesn’t know what’s going on exactly, besides the fact that she is really attractive and quite possibly flirting with him, but he feels like it is something he should probably feel guilty about.

“Oh,” she says, blushing as she slides her sleeves into a shirt. “I didn’t…”

“No, I… I mean, like…” Stiles starts.

“It’s totally-”

The room is silent for a second, and she starts to giggle.

“This just got a little awkward,” Stiles says, but he starts to grin, too, because there’s something about Allison’s bright, easy laughter that’s contagious. Tension and awkwardness that had been building up fizzles away, and Stiles relaxes. “Redo?”

“Sounds good to me,” she says, grinning. “I’m Allison.”

“Stiles,” he responds, “nice to meet you.”

 

* * *

 

They end up talking for almost two hours, and they only stop because a redhead (the nasally voice from earlier) comes into the room and tells Allison it’s time for them to go to bed. Stiles and Allison clicked really well, and Stiles decides he doesn’t want to stop talking to her, so they quickly exchange numbers before ending the call.

Stiles starfishes out on his bed, smiling to himself. Allison is funny and smart. She asked questions about Scott, cooing over a photo Scott’s mom took of them when they moved into their apartment at the beginning of the school year. He would’ve showed her something more recent, but it turned out that the only pictures of them both that Stiles had of them from the last few months are poorly-lit selfies from nights out with Scott’s head halfway in the frame.

They swapped roommate stories, Allison talking about her quad that she shares with her three best friends and about how roommates falling in love must be a Thing, because she could never forget the first time she came home from class to find Malia on top of Kira on the sofa in the living room.

He sends Allison a text with way too many exclamation points in it, and she responds quickly with way too many emoticons. Stiles thinks this is going to work. They’re going to make great friends, especially if they mostly communicate via text, and he doesn’t have to be reminded of how attractive she is on a regular basis.

When Scott comes home at two in the morning, Stiles is still wide awake, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. He wriggles over to make space for Scott in the bed and to wrap his arms around him.

“You seem like you’re in a much better mood now,” Scott comments. “Have a good night?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says happily, kissing Scott on the cheek. “Tell you ‘bout it in the morning, ‘kay?”

Scott snuggles up to Stiles and wraps an arm around him. “Love you.”

Stiles is pretty sure that hearing that will always make him melt. “Love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

It’s fun telling Scott stories, because Scott is the most active listener that Stiles has ever met. He recounts his first conversation with Allison, arms flailing as he talks about how her friends had her take her shirt off and about the awkwardness before he and Allison started to actually genuinely talk to each other. Scott laughs at all the right moments, and when Stiles finishes up, he grins.

“Sounds like you made a new friend,” he comments, and Stiles enthusiastically agrees.

“I woke up to a text from her already. I know it’s not, like… we probably aren’t going to be best friends in real life or anything, but I just have a really, really good feeling about her. She’s emoji trash and she actually laughs at my Star Wars jokes because she’s seen it, and I like her a lot.”

“I’m really glad,” Scott says warmly, and Stiles is deeply relieved. He wasn’t sure how Scott would react; if Scott were someone different, he could have easily been uncomfortable with the fact that his boyfriend was so obviously into this girl right from the start, and he could’ve easily told Stiles he wasn’t sure about Stiles talking to her.

But it’s Scott, and he’s so happy that Stiles has found someone he enjoys talking to, that he has a good feeling about, that he enthusiastically supports Stiles.

It makes Stiles feel like the luckiest boy in the world. After all, he gets to call Scott McCall his boyfriend.

 

* * *

 

So they fall into a pattern. Stiles and Allison text almost as much as Stiles and Scott do. Allison sends him messages about her roommates’ adventures and about the summer classes she’s taking and about her family drama, and Stiles texts her about Scott and about how much he hates his job and about whatever Netflix show he’s binging on. Stiles likes talking to Allison, and they never seem to run out of things to talk about.

They become close friends very quickly, and it makes Stiles really happy.

Things start deviating from his original Plan to Keep Things Platonic, though, when they start sending each other snapchats, and then even more when Allison brings up the idea of facetiming. She’s gorgeous even after a long run, a black tank top on and her hair in a messy ponytail and her face sweaty. Stiles hears her talk, sees her face light up when she gets excited and feels the way the world brightens when she’s laughing.

He knows that he’s heading towards dangerous territory, and he secretly tries to justify it to himself as just physical attraction and her similarity to Scott. She’s less unapologetically good than Scott, and less earnest. A little bit sharper. But she’s got big brown eyes and dark brown hair and a smile that makes Stiles feel like he’s done everything right to put it there. Allison telling him he’s done good, even jokingly, is enough to make him feel fuzzy and warm, and Allison makes him want to try hard to be responsible and be his best.

One night, he stays up way too late to see Scott in, and he tells her that he’s worried about getting up in the morning in time for work. She wakes up promptly at 5:45 AM to call him on his phone and make sure he doesn’t sleep through his alarm, and she makes him talk to her until he’s awake enough that he can safely drive.

Half-asleep and distracted by the coffeemaker, Stiles thanks her by telling her he loves her. She doesn’t seem to notice, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, it jolts Stiles awake a little bit.

That moment is when he realizes just how much trouble he’s in.

 

* * *

 

Stiles lets it roll forward anyway. He feels a bit guilty about it. He keeps talking to Scott about things, telling him about the conversations he has with Allison, telling him when he’s excited about something she said. He keeps hoping there will be a point when Scott puts his foot down and stops Stiles, tells him no more. He knows Scott knows him better than anyone, can see the way that the feelings are spreading.

Scott _has_ to know by now.

But Scott never says a word, and Stiles doesn’t stop. He doesn’t feel like he can, anymore, and maybe that’s why Scott never says a word. Maybe he knows just as well as Stiles that it’s too late.

He’s got feelings for Allison Argent.


	2. i'll be there in your dreams.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mix available [HERE](http://8tracks.com/katarama/i-ll-be-there-in-your-dreams).

Allison sits with her laptop balanced precariously on the edge of her bed, trying to keep the cooling vent on the bottom uncovered. It’s almost midnight, and she should probably be asleep. Her summer calculus class is at 8:30, and she knows she’ll be struggling to keep her eyes open tomorrow morning if she’s up for too much longer.

The only reason she’s still awake is because Stiles is still awake, waiting up for his boyfriend. Apparently, Scott traded shifts with someone at work so they could go see their kid’s big softball game. Scott’s been at work since noon, and it could be another hour or so before he actually gets home.

Stiles has been up for longer than Allison has, though. His morning shift started at 6:30 AM, and it’s obvious he’s losing steam. Allison has tried asking him to go to sleep, but he’s to the point where he’s as determinedly petulant as he is punch drunk. It doesn’t take long for her to realize that her job here is to make sure that he doesn’t get himself into trouble in the time before he finally gives up and conks out. They’ve been talking for an hour and a half, and he’s almost knocked their garish orange lamp over three times with his unpredictable hand gestures.

(after the third time near miss, Stiles informs her that it doesn’t matter even if he does knock it over, because Scott can be just as clumsy as him, and it’s really surprising they’ve only had to replace it once. Allison reminds him that their budget does not include broken lamps and convinces him to move to the center of the bed.)

The more time passes, the more incoherent Stiles gets. He starts off talking about his day and about how frustrating customers are and about how obnoxious his coworker slash frenemy (he uses the word, not her) Jackson is. He ends up rambling about the color of Scott’s eyes, Allison humming and nodding along absently.

It should annoy her, really. She usually likes it when things are straightforward and to the point, when people cut to the chase and say what they mean. No one in her immediate family minces words, and she’s come to appreciate people who don’t try to give her the runaround. It’s why she and Lydia have never had much trouble; when Lydia gets blunt, she can take it.

Stiles can’t manage straightforward during a normal conversation, let alone when he’s exhausted.

It’s sort of fun, though, listening to him work himself up to a rambling frenzy. She likes watching Stiles talk, the way his entire body is part of the conversation, his big hands with his long fingers flying and his eyes brightening and his mouth going pink and plush from nervous biting (and putting every other conceivable thing in his mouth, Allison is pretty sure she’s never seen a conversation where he wasn’t chewing on something). She’s never seen anyone so animated in her life; his face contorts dramatically, almost comically, to get across the most simple points.

Stiles is obviously running on fumes now, though. His sentences really stopped making sense a half an hour ago, and it seems like he’s talking just to try and keep himself awake. He keeps trailing off, losing his train of thought more than usual, even. His eyes are drooping, and his hair is so wild from him absently running his hands through it that he looks like he just rolled out of bed.

Allison feels silly for being so fond, but she just wants to kiss him on the cheek and tuck him under the covers.

“Stiles,” she says gently, giving up on asking him. “You need to go to bed now.”

He yawns, his mouth opening more widely than Allison thought was possible. There’s a long silence as he debates; he can tell that he’s fighting a losing battle, and no amount of determination is going to get him through this.

“Stiles,” she repeats, more firmly this time. “You need to sleep.”

“Fine,” he mumbles. With his decision made for him, it takes almost no time at all for him to act on it. He settles down under the covers, moving his computer and twisting onto his front in the middle of the bed. “Night Allison.”

“Night, sleepyhead,” she says as he clicks the screen off.

She falls asleep trying not to ponder the way he looked with his soft, sleepy face pressed into the pillow and his butt up in the air.

 

* * *

 

The problem is that Allison isn’t sure what she and Stiles are doing.

Things were definitively un-platonic from the start of their very first conversation. They had both made it pretty clear that they were into each other. But then suddenly everything was backpedaling, and Allison learned that Stiles has a boyfriend.

She thought that would be the end of it. They’d move onto different conversations and Allison would go back to drinking with her friends and everything would be good. Stiles kept talking, though, and he was vibrant and enthusiastic and funny, and when he said they should be friends, it was hard for Allison to find a reason not to say yes.

The more they talk, the more confused Allison gets. Their conversations most days are very thinly veiled come-ons and constant flirting. Allison isn’t sure if Stiles even realizes he’s doing it. Allison thinks he’s extremely heavy-handed when he’s _trying_ to flirt, from what he’s said about his dating history.

She wonders if maybe he just thinks this is the way friendship works. She wouldn’t be surprised, from the way he talks about him and Scott back before they were dating. She’s never had a friendship like that; the closest she’s ever had is Lydia, who she’s only been friends with since her sophomore year of high school. Maybe it’s totally normal, and she was shuttled around so much during her childhood that she just never had time to develop that kind of intimacy with anyone.

Either way, it’s hard to puzzle out how to interact with Stiles. One moment he’s winking at her, cracking jokes, and the next he’s reserved, earnestly talking about Scott.

He talks to her about his boyfriend a lot, and Allison isn’t sure if it’s a reminder to both of them or if Stiles just genuinely doesn’t realize that Allison wants him, that when Stiles talks about Scott, she feels a tight little knot in her gut, because she wishes he felt _half_ that much about her.

(he tells her that he talks to Scott about her way too much, and that makes everything even more confusing.)

 

* * *

 

The school year starts back up, and their schedules change dramatically. They’re busier, and while they text, they both have less free time to spend talking. The first couple weeks of the semester, there’s a drop-off in communication. They both have friends and schoolwork and classes and orgs to devote their time to, and Stiles is working on top of everything else.

Allison texts him between classes and while she’s in the library studying, though she resolutely refuses to text during class. He claims he works better when he’s multitasking, but she knows she doesn’t, and she can’t let her grades slip.

They’ve gotten used to talking a lot, though, and Allison misses it. Stiles isn’t with her physically, but she’s come to consider him (at the very least) a friend.

It’s Stiles that first suggests Skype study sessions. He says that the apartment is too quiet; Scott is always meeting with study groups at night, and Stiles gets lonely easily. Allison says she doesn’t have the time to spend talking for hours, so Stiles (after having the idea of using Skype sessions as study breaks shot down) finally asks, “What if we study together, then?”

Allison can’t find any fault with the idea, in theory, so she agrees after making him promise that they will _actually_ study and not sit there and talk.

 

* * *

 

It takes very, very little time for Allison to realize that Stiles is the most easily distracted person she’s ever met.

She knew he struggled sometimes, because he’d get sidetracked and turned around in the middle of conversations. Him doing homework, though, is on a level entirely to itself.

One memorable night, he tells her at the beginning of the call that he’s doing an essay for his economics class. Twenty minutes later, he’s flipping through his phone, and when she glances up from her work to fuss at him, he tells her he’s looking into the treatment of circumcision in ancient cultures. Allison tries to nudge him into doing his work, but it’s like talking to a brick wall. When she finally manages to halt his progress, he’s already written a half a page on the Ancient Greek beliefs on circumcision, when his assignment is for his introductory macroeconomics course and is about the economic policies of the Eurozone.

She keeps a better eye on him, after that, gently encouraging him and helping him recenter and refocus. She wants to get her work done and be productive, but she also wants him to make good use of his time, too. It seems like high school never taught him good study habits, and she, inexplicably, feels like it is her responsibility. They work surprisingly well together; Allison has enough discipline for three, and Stiles is excellent at finding new approaches to problems. Stiles encourages her to talk about things that frustrate her out loud, and it helps her way more than she expects. Even though he’s not paying any attention to what she says, having a sounding board keeps her from wanting to bang her head against a wall.

No amount of nudges can keep Stiles totally on track, though, when he’s having a rough day. By now, Allison has gotten good enough at figuring out from Stiles’ texts when he’s having a scattered day. She works her schedule around it. She’s not going to get any work done if she Skypes with Stiles on those days, so she plans ahead to get her work done before they talk. She sees those nights as a nice break; she sets aside an hour or so and sits on her bed, eating twizzlers and letting Stiles’ mouth run wild.

It’s one of those nights when everything changes.

 

* * *

 

Allison has already changed into her pajamas when she plops down on her bed with her laptop. Her weekly Skype call with Stiles is later than usual, because Allison had to go meet with her chemistry study group and Stiles was playing chauffeur, dropping Scott and a friend off at a party.

It’s 10:00 PM when they finally settle in to talk. Allison is tired, but she doesn’t feel half as tired as Stiles looks. She knows he had a late night of cramming for a midterm, but it looks like he didn’t sleep at all. His time would probably be better spent sleeping than talking to her, but he seems determined to keep to their scheduled time.

Stiles is so all over the place that Allison isn’t sure they’re going to make it the full hour. She wants to tell him to sleep, but he says he’s trying to stay awake until Scott gets home. He’s laying down on the bed, his head propped by pillows and his computer on his lap. Allison knows how this ends; she’s seen it more times than she can count, by now, and she knows he’s going to doze off.

Half an hour in, there’s a rattling noise against the bottom of the computer, and the camera starts to shake. Stiles cuts off mid-sentence, sets his computer on Scott’s side of the bed, and lifts his hips. Allison has no idea what he’s doing until he plunges his hand into his pocket, pulling out his vibrating phone.

“Found it,” he announces triumphantly. With the way the webcam is positioned, Allison can’t see his face; she only really gets a view from his knees to his elbows. She can picture the expression he’s wearing almost perfectly, though, big, sleepy eyes paired with a huge smile.

“Scooooott,” Stiles says, sounding pleased. “You comin’ home yet?”

There’s a long silence before Stiles speaks again.

“Awesome.”

“Half an hour?”

“See ya.”

Stiles sighs happily, and there’s a muffled thump from what Allison assumes is Stiles tossing his phone onto the bed. He reaches over towards the computer, and she expects for him to pick it back up, or even to turn back to the screen, wave, and say goodnight. Instead, he presses a single key on his keyboard, though Allison doesn’t see anything in the messaging box to indicate he’s typing. He turns on music on his phone.

Stiles’ hands slide the hem of his shirt up, leaving Allison with a clear shot of his hips and his happy trail. She’s about to pipe up and say goodbye to Stiles so he can go to sleep when she hears him mumble something. She only barely catches it over the music.

“Only got a half an hour before he’s home, gotta take care of this now.”

“Take care of what?” Allison asks, but Stiles doesn’t seem to hear her. He just keeps talking.

“You gotta make this quick,” he says. Allison thinks he’s talking to her, at first.

When he reaches for the button of his jeans, she realizes very quickly that he has no idea she’s there, or that, if he does, there has _definitely_ been some sort of miscommunication.

Allison’s dying to keep the call going and see him lying on his bed, loose and sleepy and spent, but she can’t watch past him slipping his hand down into his boxers. She hears a satisfied moan and quickly slams her computer shut.

That night, she’s awake for hours staring at her ceiling. The sound of Stiles’ moan keeps replaying in her head, the flash of a happy trail. She can picture exactly where it would go from there, his gorgeous, long fingers wrapped around his cock, his head tipped backwards to show his long, pale neck, perfect for marking up.

It’s the first time she’s allowed herself to concretely think about Stiles that way, more than just a vague knowledge that she’d have sex with him if he asked, and it burns hot in her gut, shame and arousal (and more shame). Stiles didn’t intend for her to see or hear anything, and thinking about him this way without his knowledge, especially when he’s in a committed, loving relationship, feels dirty and wrong.

She can’t take it back now, though. She doesn’t think she can look at Stiles the same way again.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, she has an apology text from Stiles for falling asleep on her. Her stomach churns, and she tries to decide whether she wants to say something.

She wants to just be honest with him, to tell him what she saw and apologize and deal with the consequences. She saw barely anything at all, and it was an honest mistake for him to make. He would probably just be embarrassed and awkward for a little bit. It would suck, but they would survive.

Of course, naturally she also spends a lot of time thinking about the worst case scenario. He could also tell Allison he can’t talk to her anymore, or, even worse, that he doesn’t want to. Allison doesn’t think she could handle that. Her everyday life now includes Stiles, waking up in the morning and blearily checking for messages, having someone to talk to on the way to class, getting a snapchat before bed. She considers him one of her closest friends. Not quite on par with Kira and Malia and Lydia, but pretty close. He gets her in a way that’s a little bit baffling.

She likes him a lot, fond and fuzzy feelings that she knows aren’t platonic, and have never really been platonic. He’s become important to her, and she doesn’t want to lose him, even if she knows she never had a shot at really having him in the first place.

It feels like too many secrets at once, though, and she doesn’t know where anything falls. So after a heart to heart with Kira about it, she decides to say something.

(she knows Kira’s a true friend, because a tub of gelato with Allison’s name on it appears in the fridge, just in case)

 

* * *

 

Allison picks a time when neither of them is busy and neither of them is tired. Midterms have passed, so their workload is in a temporary lull. She takes advantage and schedules a call. If Stiles thinks it’s weird she doesn’t try to call it a study session, he doesn’t say anything.

She can’t focus that morning in class at all, constantly running through her head what she’s going to say and how she’s going to say it. She’s not totally happy with any of the plans she comes up with, and she already knows she’s going to end up lapsing into a Stiles-style ramble.

When she’s finally on Skype, Stiles online and her mouse poised over the green video call button, she feels shaky and sick to her stomach.

She clicks, and Skype barely has time to connect before Stiles’ face is up on her screen.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks almost immediately. Allison feels even worse, seeing how soft and concerned he is. “You’ve been weird all day and I’m freaking out a little bit, is something wrong?”

“We should probably talk,” Allison says.

“Awe, hell,” Stiles says. “That’s never good.”

 

* * *

 

Allison doesn’t think she’s ever seen Stiles’ face so red.

“You saw me get off?” Stiles blurts. “Oh my god, and I’m so loud, I probably made embarrassing noises and-”

“No!” Allison says immediately. “Didn’t see you get off, I definitely cut it off way before that, I-”

“Oh my god,” Stiles repeats, covering his face. “Thank god for that, I don’t think I could handle that kind of embarrassment, even Scott hasn’t seen me come. Though I really wouldn’t mind if he did, or if you did, really, when it comes down to it, but-”

“Wait, what?” Allison asks, cutting him off. “You and Scott haven’t had sex?”

“Did I not tell you that?” Stiles asks, flustered and confused. “Scott’s asexual, the most we do together is kiss. Though, like, I get off when he’s in bed with me, but usually only when he’s asleep and actually on his side of the bed, because he tends to cuddle in his sleep, and I’m not waking him up with my dick. But he sleeps through noises like you wouldn’t believe, and one time when we were camping-”

“Slow down,” Allison tells him gently, and Stiles takes a deep breath. “So you’re a virgin, then?”

“Yup,” Stiles says, popping his p. “Never had sex with anyone but my hand. And almost with your webcam, apparently.”

“Wow,” Allison says. “I don’t know why that surprises me so much, but it does.”

“It’s because of my dashing good looks,” Stiles teases.

Allison snorts. “You’re actually quite handsome, you know. If you had known you were doing it, I would’ve stayed on Skype to watch.”

There’s a long, loud silence. Allison feels the nerves building up in her gut again as Stiles stares at her through the screen, his hair fluffed up and his cheeks still a little pink. She’s rarely seen his eyes look so assessing, though, like she’s a decision he’s on the verge of making.

“That’s something I want,” he finally says. “I want a lot of things with you.”

“I do, too, with you,” Allison says.

The tension and anticipation in the air is thick. They both know that how they handle this could break everything. Stiles has a boyfriend.

“How much do you want?” Stiles rushes out. “I… I need to talk to Scotty about this, and I want to know how much I need to tell him. I can tell him what I want, and I don’t think he would be even the tiniest little bit surprised, because he knows me better than anyone, and I haven’t tried to hide anything from him this entire time we’ve been friends. But I need to know how much to ask for, because if I’m going to do this, I’m not going to go halfway. I’m going to ask for exactly what we want.”

Allison takes a deep breath. “I want to be your girlfriend,” she says as firmly as she can manage. “It would have to be long-distance, but I want to have Skype dates and listen to your probably hilariously awful attempts at dirty talk. I like you a lot and I’m attracted to you.”

“I want to be your boyfriend. And, excuse you, I would be awesome at dirty talk, I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

Allison laughs, and Stiles grins nervously. He looks a little pale, and Allison almost tells him he doesn’t have to bother asking Scott, that they can just keep going forward like they have been. She knows it isn’t true, though. Too much has changed between them for things to go on unacknowledged, and if Stiles has feelings for Allison, even that much is enough that Stiles and Scott need to sit down and have a talk.

“Okay,” Stiles says. “Then I’m gonna talk to him tonight after dinner and let you know. You’re free to talk then, right?”

“I have a little bit of time between the archery range and bed. I can talk then.”

“I’ll call you,” Stiles promises. “I don’t know if I’ll have an answer for you, but I’ll call to give you updates.”

“Thanks,” Allison says. “That’s more than I could ask for.”

 

* * *

 

“Yes,” is the first word out of Stiles’ mouth, and Allison freezes.

“Yes?”

“He said yes,” Stiles says. “I couldn’t wait for when he got back from dinner. I picked him up from work and asked him then, and he said he needed just a little bit of time to think, so he thought all through dinner and asked me questions, and then he said yes.”

Allison can barely speak she’s so shocked. She didn’t know what she expected; Stiles had talked to the moon and back about how awesome and loving and understanding Scott was, but she never would’ve thought he’d be totally fine with his boyfriend getting a girlfriend.

“Wow,” she says. “I can’t believe…”

“Me either,” Stiles admits. “But he said he saw it coming and he mentioned that there were some things he’s a little bit nervous about, but we talked a lot. We talked about sex, and where he is on that. I think the fact that you’re not here makes it easier, because you want sex, but he’s really the only one who can touch me, for now at least.”

“You’re sure he’s okay with it? That sounds like he’s not entirely okay with it,” Allison says.

“He was pretty solid on telling me I should do it,” Stiles says. “He and I are gonna have to do a lot of talking and a lot of checking in. My specialty is ignoring a problem until it eventually goes away, and I was hoping that I would be able to do that with some stuff. Scott never pushed, so we never talked.”

“And that won’t be a problem?”

Stiles shrugs. “Hope not. It’s hard to tell. But I want to go forward, and Scott seems okay with it if we take things slow.”

Allison lets out a deep breath. “Okay. If you’re sure-”

“I am.”

“Then boyfriend and girlfriend,” Allison finishes.

“Wow,” Stiles says, awed to hear it out loud. “I went from no relationships to two relationships in one year, what kind of luck is that? Isaac’s gonna be green when he hears this.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Allison says fondly.

“Your asshole, now,” Stiles teases, and Allison’s floating on clouds.

 

* * *

 

“Hi Stiles!” Kira says. She leans down in front of the computer screen so that Stiles can see her, blocking most of Allison from view.

“If it isn’t my favorite of Allison’s roommates,” Stiles says fondly. “Did you catch up on the new season of Arrow finally?”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Kira starts, switching modes to prepare for a ramble, “What did you think about-”

She’s cut off when a brunette walks in front of of her and gives her a long, enthusiastic kiss, paying the camera no attention.

“Don’t be fooled,” the newcomer tells Kira. She finally turns toward the camera, narrowing her eyes at Stiles. “He calls us all his favorite, don’t let him distract you.”

“It’s not my fault Allison has great roommates, Malia,” Stiles insists.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, grinning and waving her hand. “We’re stealing Allison, it might be a while.”

“Roommate business,” Kira says apologetically.

“Shopping trip,” Allison clarifies, nudging Kira and Malia to the side so she can actually see Stiles. “But I should go, I’ll talk to you later.”

“See ya babe,” Stiles says, waving and blowing a kiss.

Kira giggles, and Allison’s cheeks pink up as she ends the call. “He’s only doing that to show off,” Allison explains. “He thinks he’s hilarious.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Malia says, grinning. “You’re as big of a sappy dork as he is.”

“No one’s as big of a dork as he is,” Lydia says, strolling into the room, her heels clicking. “Are we ready to go?”

“All set,” Allison says, closing her laptop and setting it down on the couch.

 

* * *

 

It’s only the first store, and Lydia has already dragged Malia along to the lingerie section, strongly hinting that Kira shouldn’t follow. Kira’s fine with it; she and Allison are more similar shoppers, anyway, preferring to take their time flipping through the racks instead of waging war on them like Lydia or breezing through and declaring themselves done like Malia.

There’s nothing Allison really needs, so she’s helping Kira look for a pair of new boots to replace the ones she’s nearly worn through. Kira keeps hovering over a pair, so Allison grabs her size and holds the box out for her. Kira smiles gratefully and finds a seat so she can take off her shoes.

“You’re cute, you know,” Kira says when Allison sits next to her. “You and Stiles, that is. Not that you aren’t cute on your own.”

Allison smiles and nudges her. “We are pretty cute, aren’t we?”

“Are things going okay? I know you were nervous.”

“Yeah,” Allison says. “I wasn’t sure if this would last, but we’re figuring things out. I still haven’t met Scott, but he and Stiles talk. He’s handling this really well.”

“How about you, though?” Kira asks as she slips one boot on.

“What about me?”

“Is it hard? Knowing he’s dating someone else.”

Allison considers that carefully. It’s something that’s been unavoidable from the start of their relationship, the fact that Stiles has Scott. She’s always been very aware of the fact that Stiles and Scott have been through everything together, that most of the deeply personal stories Stiles shares include Scott, even if it’s as an afterthought, ‘Scott made me feel better’ or ‘telling Scott was really scary’. It’s hard not to draw comparisons between herself and Scott, and it’s hard not to feel small and new next to the overwhelming bubble of history and feeling that is Scott.

Stiles has never let her feel out of place, though. Stiles has only ever compared the two in positive ways. Stiles checks in with her to see how she’s doing and how she’s feeling. Now that he’s allowed to be, he’s upfront and honest about his feelings, even if it is presented in a joking way more often than a serious way. It’s everything Allison needs, and he knows it.

“I think it’s easier for me than it is for him? I always knew there was someone else for Stiles. Scott was always there, that’s something I can’t touch. But he had everything and wanted me. He risked a lot asking to date me, and it’s hard not to feel important when I think about that.”

Kira smiles at her and laces up her boots. “Sounds like you’ve figured out how to think about it, then.”

“I’m working on it,” Allison says. “There’s a lot I want that I can’t have, just because it’s a long-distance relationship. That’s going to take some getting used to. But I’m working on not feeling jealous of the fact that Scott has most of those things, and I’m talking things out a lot with Stiles. When you force him to have serious talks, it can actually be pretty helpful.”

Kira seems satisfied with that answer. She hums her approval and stretches her feet out so Allison can get a clear view. “Well, what do you think?”

“You could kick some ass in those,” Allison says, smiling. She feels like she and Stiles have just been given Kira’s seal of approval.

“Perfect,” Kira says brightly. “I’m going to walk around in these to make sure, and then we’ll rescue Malia.”

 

* * *

 

Allison loads her bag into the trunk of her car and tucks her phone charger into the passenger side cup holder. Her drive shouldn’t be very long, but she spent so much time that morning nervous facetiming Lydia that she forgot to charge up.

She’s been in the apartment a couple of days without her roommates. She’s glad that she’s leaving; she can see what Stiles is talking about when he complains about everything being too empty when he’s home alone.

Christmas with her dad was a quiet affair. He didn’t put up any opposition when she said she was going back to school two weeks early. She didn’t mention the fact that it was to go spend a week and a half of that with her boyfriend in his apartment.

It had been Scott’s idea, surprisingly enough. Stiles and Allison had been talking about how close they were to each other, geographically speaking, and how ridiculous it was that neither of them had met, since they both had cars. Next thing Allison knew, Stiles was telling her that Scott wanted to meet her and asking if she wanted to come spend some time up with him and Scott at UC Davis.

It was an immediate yes then, but now she’s less sure of herself.

She has no idea what to expect, and she wonders if she should’ve started out with a much shorter period of time. Hang out for an afternoon, or meet up for a weekend, instead of plunging straight into a week and a half in a new place with not only Stiles to get used to and get comfortable with, but also Stiles’ boyfriend, who she’s never met before.

Allison wishes she had at least had some sort of Skype call to go on. She’s heard so many stories from Stiles about what Scott is like, but Allison is pretty sure that Scott can’t be as perfect as Stiles always acts like he is. She doesn’t know what he _is_ like, though, to prepare herself.

There’s nothing she can do about it at this point, though, but hope that nothing goes wrong. If nothing else, she can always cut out early and kill time in the apartment.

She makes sure her door’s locked, she sets her GPS, she turns on her pump up music, and she hits the road.

 

* * *

 

Finding Stiles’ apartment is a bit of a challenge, because Stiles accidentally gave her the address of his campus mailbox instead of his apartment building. Her GPS doesn’t like it, and it takes a series of confused texts before she finally finds the right place.

He’s waiting inside his door when she pulls into the parking lot, and she’s in the process of getting her bag out of the trunk when she sees him in person the first time.

“You need some help?” Stiles asks, trying to be casual and smooth by leaning against the car. He loses his balance, almost tripping his way into Allison

“I think I’m good,” she tells him, “but I could use a hug.”

Stiles walks over, and Allison drops her bag on the ground next to the car. He’s taller than she expected, somehow, and all the little details that don’t come across as clearly through the camera seem very defined. She wants to run her fingers and her mouth along the trail of moles from his lips to behind his ear.

“How about a kiss instead?” Stiles asks.

Allison smiles. “A kiss sounds good to me.”

She melts inside when he reaches up to cup her face first, leaning in slow and careful and briefly pressing his lips against hers. The kiss is sweet and gentle and just long enough for her to realize he must’ve chewed cinnamon gum right before she showed up.

When he pulls away, they both smile.

“Hi,” he whispers. “Welcome to my crib.”

Allison rolls her eyes and Stiles barks out a laugh, grabbing Allison’s bag triumphantly.

 

* * *

 

They bring Allison’s stuff inside and get her set up in the guest bedroom. The apartment came furnished, so there’s a bed sitting in there that they never use. It’s perfect for Allison, though, and Stiles informs her that it’s just big enough that if he wants to come spend a night with her in her room, the bed will fit both of them.

Allison shouldn’t be surprised by now natural things feel between her and Stiles, but she is. Talking is just like it’s always been, easy and fluid, Stiles talking and Allison filling in the gaps. There are a few moments of awkwardness, Stiles reaching over to touch her or hug her and drawing up short, Allison going the rest of the way and reassuring him that it’s okay with her. Things are easier after that, less stilted and unsure.

Stiles feeds her a surprisingly edible lunch, with vegetables and everything. It’s just the two of them, though; Scott is at the vet clinic and won’t be back until late.

Meeting Scott is still hanging over Allison’s head, but she tries not to think about it. It’s easy to bury it when she has Stiles around. He’s so noisy and attention-grabbing that she doesn’t have space to fret about it. He convinces her to watch a movie with him, wrapping his arm around her and whispering comments almost nonstop into her ear. She goes through takeout menus with him to pick out dinner, and is relieved to find that their pizza topping preferences are compatible.

Allison doesn’t want to fall asleep on Stiles, and she didn’t sleep well the night before, so she starts getting ready for bed as early as she can get away with while avoiding Stiles’ teasing.

She’s coming out of the shower, pajamas on and hair soaking wet when the apartment door creaks open. She hears him before she sees him, his voice warm and excited, carrying as he asks, “Where’s Allison?”

“The shower just turned off, so she should be out soon,” Stiles says. “God, Scott, it’s. She’s everything I thought she would be. She’s incredible, you’re gonna love her.”

“I can’t wait,” Scott says earnestly, and the tension Allison has been holding in her shoulders eases. Hearing Scott say that, sounding so genuine when he implied that he wants to like Allison, is monumentally reassuring.

She takes a deep breath and walks into the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

“Hi,” he says, and, god, the photos Stiles showed her never could have prepared her for this. He has a crooked jaw and gently curling brown hair and his smile is so sweet it lights up his entire face. It’s totally disarming.

“Hi,” she says, ignoring the way Stiles is practically vibrating out of his skin next to her. She sticks out her hand. “I’m Allison, you must be Scott.”

“I am,” he says, shaking her hand. “I mean, you totally knew that, that was obvious. But it’s awesome to finally meet you.”

“You too,” she says, a smile working its way onto her face. “Stiles talks a lot about you.”

“Stiles talks a lot about everything,” he teases. “But he talks a lot about you, too.”

Scott lets go of her hand, and Allison blushes. “I think he’s been hiding you from me on purpose,” she whispers conspiratorially. “I think we’re going to get along.”

“I think so, too,” Scott says. He glances at Stiles, his eyes narrowed, playing along with Allison, but it doesn’t take long for it to melt into a full-blown beam. Allison doesn’t know how Stiles can handle that sort of unadulterated sunshine without turning into mush, but he barely reacts at all.

“Hey, no,” Stiles insists, “you two aren’t allowed to gang up on me this early on, that’s not fair.”

Scott laughs and Allison’s heart skips a beat. “That’s what you get for not introducing us before. We’re practically partners in crime, now,” she says, glancing at Scott for approval.

“I’d love to be your partner in crime,” Scott says.

Stiles groans, but they both ignore him.

 

* * *

 

“We should probably talk,” Stiles repeats back at her the next morning, bright and early.

She groans. “Yeah. I think we should.

 


	3. it was always you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mix available [HERE](http://8tracks.com/katarama/it-was-always-you).

Scott spits his toothpaste foam into the sink and lets Stiles squeeze in, carefully reaching around Stiles to turn the faucet on and rinse it all down the drain. Stiles shoots him a grateful grin; it’s his turn to clean the bathroom next, and it gets disgusting much less quickly if there aren’t toothpaste and food particle remnants clinging to the sink.

It’s just the two of them, following their normal routine. Allison had already brushed her teeth and washed her face when Scott came in, so when they all finally decided it was time for bed, she gave Stiles a quick peck on the cheek and went straight to the guest bedroom, lightly closing the door behind her.

“Well?” Stiles had asked expectantly as soon as she was out of earshot. Scott knew that he just wanted to hear out loud that he was right; Stiles obviously knew he was, his fingers had been still and his face eager. He wasn’t even nervous.

“Just as awesome as you said,” Scott said, grinning. He couldn’t even begrudge Stiles for it. “And also very pretty, before you ask about that one.”

“She’s perfect,” Stiles said dreamily. “I mean, she isn’t perfect, but she’s perfect for me.”

Scott can’t help looping the words through his head as he rinses his toothbrush and puts it back in the cup. A month or two ago, they would’ve made him feel unsettled, slighted and nervous and jealous.

Now, though, when he’s seen the way Stiles lights up sitting next to her on the couch, the way his whole body goes lazy and happy as she runs her fingers through his hair, the way she smiles like it’s just for him, something soft and secret and private…

It settles a lot of Scott’s concerns about them. She makes him happy, and they fit into place so easily it makes Scott wistful.

Stiles slots his fingers in between Scott’s, jolting Scott out of his thoughts. “Ready for bed?” he says.

“Yeah,” Scott says, letting Stiles lead him by the hand back to their bedroom.

 

* * *

 

Scott had been over the moon when he and Stiles had first kissed, sitting on the jeep under the stars. He had been in love with Stiles as long as he could remember, though pinning down what his feelings were had been tricky at best. He struggled to figure out if it was just platonic love, just appreciating Stiles’ loyalty and his sense of humor and his desire for closeness. Though he definitely knew objectively that Stiles was attractive, he never really felt sexually attracted to anyone, Stiles included, so he didn’t even have that as a metric to gauge interest.

He’d asked his mom one night how she knew she was in love.

“It’s different for everyone,” she told him, but that hadn’t been a good enough answer for Scott.

“What about _you_ , though?”

She thought about it for a minute, sitting on the edge of his bed in her scrubs. Scott knew he put her on the spot, but as a mom, he figured she should have an answer anyway.

“Well, I guess it’s when someone makes me happy. When I want to spend all my time with them, because even doing things that are hard or ordinary can be fun with them. They make me feel special, and I want to make them feel special, too.”

Scott wasn’t sure if that actually cleared anything up; that sounded just like being friends, to him, and his mom _did_ say it’s different for everyone.

It was easy, though, to accept being in love with Stiles, if that was what it felt like to be in love. There was no one who made him happier than Stiles, and there was nothing Scott liked more than making Stiles smile and laugh so hard he snorted milk all over their table at lunch. Stiles made even the most boring classes fun, and he always charged into trouble like he was afraid of nothing when it came to protecting Scott from bullies. He’d end up in the nurse’s office with a bloody nose and he’d still be seething, because no one was allowed to tease Scott but him.

Stiles made Scott feel like the center of the world, and Scott was willing to go to extreme lengths to make him feel the same way. Scott didn’t have a lot of friends, but none of the ones he had ever made him feel the way Stiles did. He figured that meant something.

Years later, being in love with Stiles is such a huge part of his daily life that he can’t imagine not knowing for certain.

He and Stiles spend nights curled up on the couch watching movies. Stiles dozes off sprawled halfway on Scott’s lap, mumbling and popping his lips, because even while asleep, Stiles can’t be quiet or still. Stiles whispers he loves Scott every night before bed, quiet and low, like a secret tucked away between them. They cook together, sticking frozen dinners in the oven when they don’t have time for anything else, Stiles always insisting on having some kind of vegetable with every meal out of habit. When Scott misses his mom late at night, Stiles is there with his car keys, eyes drooping and hair ruffled, offering to make the drive as soon as possible so Scott can give her a hug.

Scott loves him with everything he has, and Stiles always said the same.

 

* * *

 

But then there was Allison.

At first, she was just “my new online friend”, and Scott was excited, because Stiles having new friends was always a good thing. Stiles always got weird about Scott’s new friends; he hated Isaac, at first, and had only recently warmed up to him even a little bit, and Liam was exactly the same. Stiles didn’t have many people that were just _his_ close friend, and Scott was excited to hear that Stiles was branching out a bit, even if it was online.

Allison started creeping into everyday conversation way more quickly than Scott could’ve expected, Stiles casually dropping in comments about food Allison liked and what Allison was studying. Stiles and Allison’s friendship steamrolled quickly, and Scott didn’t really know how he felt about it. Stiles was excited, but it seemed like things were moving more and more away from friendship.

Stiles was blunt about the fact that she was attractive. He’d get pink over snapchats that Allison sent him, shoving the phone in Scott’s face and demanding, “Scott, you have to see this. She’s so unfair, how am I supposed to deal with this?”

Scott knew. He tried to avoid thinking about it, and he and Stiles never talked about it, but it became a steady, constant thought. He wasn’t the only person Stiles loved. Stiles didn’t seem any less happy, any less in love with him. But it still weighed on him, making him wonder if Stiles had fallen so fast and hard for Allison because there was something Scott wasn’t doing for him, something that he needed that Scott couldn’t give him.

Sex was something Scott thought about a lot. He wondered if it was something they should broach together, something he could try on a small scale. He and Stiles could get off together in the same bed, or something small like that, and Stiles would probably like it. It would be better for him than what Scott was doing.

But before he could figure out what he wanted and what he could comfortably do with Stiles, Stiles sat him down and asked him if he could date Allison.

When Scott froze, Stiles rushed to tell him that he would only do it if it meant he could keep Scott, because Scott came first, always. They talked for an hour straight, Stiles slowly settling Scott’s unease, reassuring Scott that it was not an issue of Scott not being enough, that if Scott said no, Stiles would stop with Allison in a heartbeat and not love Scott any less.

In reality, Scott knew there was only one answer he could give. He was in love with Stiles, and he trusted Stiles. As long as Stiles wasn’t going to leave him, Scott could roll with the punches and adapt.

Besides, he never should’ve expected dating Stiles to be a conventional endeavor.

So Scott said yes.

 

* * *

 

The most surprising thing to Scott was that not much changed even once Stiles and Allison started dating.

Scott and Stiles still had Scott and Stiles time, and Stiles still texted and Skyped Allison. Stiles kept him up to date about everything that was going on between them, like they agreed. Scott said he wanted to know, because he wanted to hear that Stiles was happy, and if he had any concerns, he wanted to be able to talk openly with Stiles about them.

It was hard sometimes. But the more Scott heard about Allison, the more curious he got. He wanted to see her, to meet her. When Stiles was talking about meeting Allison, all in hypotheticals, Scott had stopped him.

“Break’s coming up. Why don’t you invite her to stay here?”

 

* * *

 

Now, Allison is in their kitchen, cooking eggs and humming to herself. She had made them coffee and everything; when Scott sipped from the mug, he was surprised to find it made exactly the way he liked it.

“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said he talked about you a lot,” Allison says, flushing pink at the look of wonder Scott gives her. “I also know your favorite ice cream flavor.”

“Stiles would drink it even if it tasted like toxic sludge,” Scott says. Stiles flips him off and Allison laughs.

Allison fits seamlessly into life in their tiny apartment, and Scott can’t help but marvel at it. Stiles has reduced work hours over winter break, so he’s around the apartment more, and Allison is there to keep him company. Scott comes home and notices the increasingly easy way she touches him, a quick kiss or a hair ruffle or her long legs sprawled on his lap. They _fit_ together.

She doesn’t shy away from Scott either, though, which surprises and pleases Scott. They both know she came for Stiles, but Scott was serious about wanting to get to know her better. He thought it would be easier with Allison no longer being just Stiles’ to hide away, and that it might dampen down some of the ugly, uncertain feelings Scott has been having.

Allison seems genuinely interested in getting to know Scott, asking him questions about his work and his mom and his classes. She lets Scott tell his version of the story of how he and Stiles met, Stiles throwing in commentary occasionally when Scott’s version of the story is “ _too boring, Scotty, you’re telling this all wrong_ ”.

She’s pleasant and cheerful and shockingly easy to talk to. She fits in with their casual affection and she can kick both of their asses at wii bowling.

Scott can understand why Stiles is smitten, and, even more shockingly, he can see himself wandering there, too. He’s always been that way, when it comes to feelings; a first glance and he knows. It was that way with Stiles.

The first time he saw Allison she was standing in the doorway in tiny shorts and a tanktop, hair loose and dripping. She looked nervous and unsure. Scott wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight.

But she smiled at him, arm stretched out to shake his hand, and Scott got butterflies.

Everything is shifting, and he isn’t sure what to do.

 

* * *

 

The last afternoon Stiles has to work before Allison heads home, he pulls Scott to the side while Allison is loading up a movie. Stiles talks to him in the way Stiles does when he has something important he wants to say that he doesn’t actually want to have to say.

“You and Allison should enjoy the day together. You know, spend some quality time together,” he says vaguely. “Do some talking. Some sorting things out.”

“Stiles…” Scott says, but Stiles cuts him off.

“Talking,” he insists. “Feelings. You’re good at that, you can handle it.”

Scott wants to laugh, but Stiles looks totally serious. He pats Scott on the back and grabs his car keys, kissing Scott and heading out.

“Movie’s ready!” Allison shouts, and Scott wanders back towards the living room. Allison snuggles close to him, tucking her legs up under her on the couch so she can rest her head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her without thinking, letting his hand gently stroke her back.

He can’t think of anyone he’s gotten this comfortable with this quickly in a long time.

“Should’ve made popcorn,” Allison says, and Scott can’t help but agree. Neither of them feels much like getting up, though, so they start the movie without.

Allison is much easier to watch movies with than Stiles. She doesn’t talk over the movie the entire time, first of all. She doesn’t get up halfway through for a pee break, she isn’t frustratingly fidgety, and she isn’t dead set on making out through the ending.

That thought has Scott glancing down at Allison’s lips, which are soft and pink and (unlike Stiles’) not bitten plump. His lips start to tingle, so he refocuses on the explosions on the screen.

When they get to the end, Allison stretches, yawning. “I think that’s the quietest movie watching experience I’ve had in years. If there weren’t so many things blowing up, I might’ve fallen asleep.”

“The last time Stiles and I watched a movie together, he spent half the movie trying to imitate the explosion noises,” Scott says, grinning, “which would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the fact that he felt like the sound effects needed to go with hand gestures, and he accidentally punched me in the jaw.”

Allison laughs. “My roommates and I can only agree on a movie about half the time. Lydia’s insufferable when she’s bored, and Malia doesn’t even bother to pay attention when it’s a movie she doesn’t care about. Kira gets really into whatever’s on, and she can get loud about it.”

“Your roommates sound like fun people,” Scott says, getting a warm, fond smile from Allison.

“They really are. They’re my best friends, and I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

“That sounds familiar,” Scott says.

“I wasn’t sure how I would feel about seeing you and Stiles together,” Allison admits. “It’s one thing to hear about it and another to see it. You guys have been together ages, and I thought it’d be hard. The way you are around each other…”

“We’ve been around each other a long time.”

“You can tell,” Allison says. “Everything seems natural with you two. I thought I’d be jealous.”

Scott wonders if this is the conversation that Stiles has been trying to nudge him into. It _feels_ weighty, like it’s heading somewhere important. “But you aren’t?”

“I am a little bit,” she admits, like it pains her. “I was hoping it wouldn’t at all, but I am, a little. Not _exactly_ for the reasons I expected, though. I thought I’d just be jealous of you, for having Stiles all to yourself all the time. Or that I’d be jealous of the relationship you two have.”

“What is it, then?” Scott asks, nudging her along.

“I’m just as jealous of him as I am of you,” she says.

The words circle around Scott’s head, and he doesn’t know what to make of them. Allison meets his eyes, but guardedly, like she’s waiting for a negative reaction. It startles Scott when he absently thinks that the expression looks like it would fit on Stiles’ face. “You are?”

“Yeah,” Allison says. “You’re so good for him. I thought he was exaggerating when he talked about how great you were, how patient and understanding and giving. I knew he couldn’t be lying, of course, because you let us do this, but… it didn’t click until I saw it. You’re everything he said you were. It’s hard not to want that. To…” she hesitates, but she finally relents. “To want you. To want both of you, and what you have.”

This is definitely the conversation Stiles wanted them to have. Scott is certain of it now. “When you say _want_ , do you mean…?”

“I know you’re asexual,” Allison says. “But I like you. I’d say I like you the way Stiles likes you, but I don’t think anyone can like someone the way Stiles likes someone. He throws _everything_ into it.”

“But you would date me,” Scott says, circling back around to the point. “You would date us. Together.”

“I would.”

It feels surreal, hearing so many of the things Scott’s been feeling and thinking out loud. He would date Allison in a heartbeat, even though in a few days she’s going to leave, and they’ll be back to video calls and text messages. He’d never considered being in love with anyone but Stiles before, had never considering dating anyone but Stiles.

He thinks back to what his mother once told him, though, back when he thought he never stood a chance with Stiles, when he thought Stiles could never feel the same way about him.

“You fall in love more than once. It will happen again. It will be just as amazing and extraordinary as the first time and maybe just as painful. But it'll happen again. I promise.”

He’s with Stiles, now, and he doesn’t think this is exactly what his mom was talking about, but it rings true anyway. He’s not in love with Allison, he doesn’t think. Not yet. But with just a little bit of time, he can see himself getting there quickly. Not loving her just the same as he loves Stiles, but loving her just as deeply.

“I would, too,” he tells her confidently. He reaches out and gently wraps his hand around hers. “I want to date both you and Stiles. I need to talk to Stiles about it first, but-”

“He told me he was okay with it the morning after I got here,” Allison tells him. “I think he knows us a lot better than we give him credit for. He told me he was okay with it. More than okay with it, really.”

“The people he’s dating dating each other probably would make him pretty happy. Plus, you know, I like you a lot.”

Allison smiles, tension slipping from her shoulders. “Was this what you had in mind when you invited me here?” she asks.

Scott laughs. “Definitely not. I’m much, much happier with you here than I could’ve ever expected.”

“Me, too,” Allison says, squeezing Scott’s hand gently.

 

* * *

 

Stiles is ecstatic.

He takes them out for ice cream to celebrate, insisting that the fact that it’s winter is irrelevant when faced with an updated relationship status. Scott isn’t going to argue if it gets him a chocolate brownie chunk ice cream cone.

Stiles has a whole speech prepared, a long, ramble about how much easier things are going to be now that they’ll all be dating each other. He’s so full of energy that Scott almost tells him he doesn’t need the sugar from the ice cream, but Scott doesn’t dare dampen any of Stiles’ enthusiasm. It _is_ exciting, for all of them, and Scott’s not going to rain on Stiles’ parade.

There are going to have to be some important discussions in the next few weeks, but Scott knows he can handle that, after everything they’ve been through so far. He’s prepared to sit down and ask questions and to be honest about what he is and is not comfortable with, and he’s prepared to take the time to get to know Allison better and to let their relationship grow.

He knows that he and Allison are starting fresh, that he and Allison are different than he and Stiles were, or even than Stiles and Allison. They jumped straight into dating without any period of friendship first, and there’s not as solid of a foundation between the two of them. But Scott’s more than willing to explore and to build that foundation together. He’s excited for it.

Allison shares bites of her ice cream with both of them, giving Stiles a bright, dimpled smile and sharing a belabored grin with Scott when Stiles winds up with ice cream all over his face. Stiles laughs and offers to share some of the mess, and she leans in for a kiss. Stiles shoots Scott the most enthusiastic, pleased grin, and demands Scott help clean up, too.

Scott’s heart feels fuller than it ever has, and that’s how he knows. He was never missing anything before, but he’s now complete. He has everything he could want, and he and Stiles have everything they could possibly need.

 

* * *

 

That night, instead of Stiles going to Allison’s bed to cuddle, they welcome Allison into theirs. Scott knows that one of them is going to get a knee to the junk or an elbow to the face from Stiles. He doesn’t mind so much, though. He’s warm and sleepy and happy, in bed with both of them.

 

* * *

 

Allison’s bag is packed and by the door. She has her shoes on and her keys in her hand.

Stiles has been stalling for 20 minutes, leaning against the wall by the door and talking a million miles per minute, like if he can just shove enough words out of his mouth, it will be enough to keep her from leaving the apartment.

They all wish Allison could stay longer, but Scott and Stiles go back to class the next day, and Allison promised her roommates she’d come back a couple of days before school started back up. She has to leave, there’s no getting around it.

That doesn’t stop Stiles from trying, though. Eventually, Scott has to rest his hand on the small of Stiles’ back and place a kiss on his cheek.

“Time to say goodbye, Stiles,” he says gently.

Allison sends him a look that’s as much grateful as it is dismayed.

“Fine,” Stiles says, moving away from the wall. He walks up to Allison, whispering something in her ear and giving her a kiss so long and thorough that Scott has to look away.

When Stiles finally pulls away, Allison walks over to Scott, cheeks still pink. She reaches out and holds both his hands in hers. “I’ll miss you,” she says, “though it’s seriously not far away, it’s like an hour, and now that I have _two_ boyfriends here…”

“You’re welcome whenever,” Scott says, smiling. “We’ll keep the guest room clean for you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Stiles says, and Allison laughs. She leans in and gives Scott a kiss on the cheek. With Allison’s face so close, Scott doesn’t even have to think before he presses a kiss of his own on her lips.

“We’ll see you soon,” Scott says.

As Allison grabs her bag and heads out, his words still ring in the air, a firm promise.

 

* * *

 

The apartment feels empty without her. Scott didn’t realize how used to her being around he’d gotten until she wasn’t there. He can tell Stiles feels it too, from the way Stiles keeps glancing at the guest bedroom.

Scott didn’t realize so much could happen in just a week and a half. It feels like a whirlwind, even though most of the time they spent cuddled up in their tiny apartment. Scott is in a completely different place than where he started out, and he’s going to need a week or two to decompress and process.

He has Stiles there with him to help him through it, though, and there’s nothing he and Stiles can’t figure out together.

 

* * *

 

It’s the beginning of February, and Scott and Stiles sit next to each other on the couch in front of the computer, Allison on her bed. She looks tired but happy, hair messy and no makeup on, smudges of dark under her eyes. It reminds Scott of the first time he met her.

He doesn’t think he’s ever met a girl as perfect and lovely as Allison, and he knows he’s never met one that could make him smile the way she does.

“I love you,” he tells her when it’s time to hang up. Surprise flashes across her face, but she recovers quickly.

“I love you, too,” she says. “Both of you.”

 

* * *

 

Allison may not live in their apartment or go to the same school, but she’s there with them, always. She tucked the receipts from their ice cream trip in the top drawer of Stiles’ desk before she left, and Stiles prints the one picture they have of the three of them (a selfie that Kira insisted Allison send her) and puts it in a frame on top of the dresser.

Scott has a phone full of texts and a heart full of love for two people that love him back.

He has everything he could ask for and more.

He’s never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com/).


End file.
